


What Are You Afraid Of?

by Silvandar



Series: Zines and Bangs [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Competition, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Ice Skating, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Not-Victuuri Bang 2019, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, mention of victuuri - Freeform, seungchuchu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvandar/pseuds/Silvandar
Summary: Thrown together at competitions, Phichit and Seung-gil find they are drawn to each other, despite being as different as night and day. That pull becomes stronger as they become close, unearthing their fears and insecurities as well as their feelings for each other. They develop a better understanding of each other and themselves as they compete on the world stage.Not-Victuuri Bang 2019 entry.
Relationships: Phichit Chulanont/Lee Seung Gil
Series: Zines and Bangs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1408765
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32
Collections: The Not-Victuuri Extravaganza





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some Seungchuchu goodness :3 
> 
> I've been wanting to write something for these two for a while, so I'm glad this Bang gave me the opportunity!

Tradition dictated that after the official gala at the end of competitions came the private gathering. Skaters and the more relaxed members of their teams got together in the hotel and partied until dawn. Most hotels had learned to put the teams on the same floor to limit the damage and irritation to other guests, so doors were flung open and music played from various iPods. It was loud, social and often drunken. Seung-gil felt desperately out of place, and he hated it.

His normal approach was to hide in his room, headphones firmly in his ears, ignoring every attempt to make him socialise. To their credit, after the first few events and his snarls of rejection, most of the skaters had learned not to bother him after the gala. So it was a surprise when the knocking on his door at the 4CC after-party continued despite his attempts to ignore it.

Irritation won after the third knock and he strode to the door, ripping it open with a haughty scowl already in place. A cutting response died on Seung-gil's lips as he saw the bright, cheerful grin of the only person in the entire skating community who he was actively trying to avoid.

Phichit waved half a bottle of wine and two glasses at him, his eyes gleaming with just a hint of inebriation... enough to push him past the social norm of leaving Seung-gil alone after competitions. “You weren't at the party... so I brought the party to you!”

“I...” Seung-gil fell back under the thousand watt smile and Phichit took that as permission to enter the room. Kicking the door shut behind him, he thrust a glass into the stunned Korean's hand.

“We're celebrating!”

“C-celebrating what? We both lost...”

“Not true! Well, not entirely true...” Phichit poured wine, deliberately ignoring Seung-gil's weak protest. “We didn't podium” he acknowledged, “but we both made the top ten! That's worth celebrating!”

Grunting softly, Seung-gil thumped the glass down on the table and folded his arms across his chest. “That's the thing I hate most about you” he growled, “you're such an _optimist._ We _lost._ Nothing about that is worth _celebrating_.”

To his horror, Phichit's eyes widened and filled with tears. “You... you hate me?”

“Wh-what... no... I mean...”

With a wail, Phichit threw his arms around Seung-gil's neck and pressed against him, his weight forcing the taller man to grab his waist as the Thai sobbed against his shoulder. “D-don't say that... don't say you h-hate me...”

“Phichit... what...” helpless under the onslaught and deeply confused by the display of emotion, Seung-gil tried to disentangle them and succeeded only in falling backwards onto the bed, Phichit sprawled in his lap. Trying to regain equilibrium, he rested his hands on Phichit's shoulders and shook his head. “You're drunk.”

“Tipsy” Phichit corrected, blinking at him with teary eyes. “When did you get so short?”

“You're sitting on me” Seung-gil pointed out, and Phichit giggled. The Korean died a little inside at how criminally cute the sound was. “I don't hate you” he admitted, determined to stop the flow of tears.

“Good! Because... because I like you, Seung-gil... I really like you... I couldn't stand it if you hated me...”

Baffled, Seung-gil put his arms around Phichit's waist tightly as the Thai's erratic movements threatened to spill him onto the carpet. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be friends with him, let alone a ball of sunshine in human form. “You like me?”

“Yeah...” and suddenly Phichit was kissing him, lips warm and strong fingers curling into his hair. Too shocked to respond, Seung-gil froze against him and after a moment, Phichit pulled away, expression collapsing as he registered the tension in the other man. “Oh... oh... I'm s-sorry... I thought... oh, no...” jumping off Seung-gil's lap, he turned crimson and bolted for the door.

Lost in the sensations of his ever first kiss, Seung-gil just stared at the closing door until his brain unlocked and the last few moments processed.

Phichit said he liked him.

Phichit kissed him.

Phichit immediately ran away.

Logic came to his rescue, as it always did. Phichit had been tipsy, and Seung-gil had been a very embarrassing mistake. Realising that as soon as he kissed him, the Thai had panicked and fled. Simple.

Collapsing backwards on his bed, Seung-gil gazed blankly at the ceiling, absently running his finger over his lips, the taste of wine from the impromptu kiss distracting him. He wasn't angry with drunk!Phichit deciding to kiss him, but he also wasn't surprised that he ran away... He just wished it had been _anyone_ other than Phichit. The one person in the whole skater community who he actively tried to avoid.

The one person in the skater community he liked.

* * *

Freezing air in the rink made Seung-Gil glad of his gloves as he warmed up. The choice had been aesthetic at the time, working perfectly with the jacketless suit idea, but in practice the gloves were surprisingly effective at keeping his fingers loose and cosy. Stripping off his training jacket to reveal the shimmer of his waistcoat, he cast a look around the rink at the rest of the final group.

He'd clawed his way into the last skate of the competition through sheer willpower and bloody-mindedness. “Almavivo” had been well received by the judges, and he'd managed to keep his head through the jumps to nail his quad loop. Unfazed by the response of the crowd as usual, he'd nevertheless felt a quiet satisfaction as his skates bit cleanly into the ice on the landing. Now, he faced the much less pleasant prospect of his free skate.

“Pavane Pour une Infante Défunte” was a heavy chain around his neck. He'd tanked it badly during the Grand Prix, and his hard work since that horrible experience all those months ago had only just managed to net him into the top five at Four Continents. To his disgust, he'd popped his triple axel early on and failed to recover, watching Yuuri, JJ and Guang Hong take the podium while he and Leo watched from rinkside. It had been humiliating.

His eyes drifted to those very skaters as he pushed off from the wall and into the last stage of his warm-up. JJ was playing to the crowd, and Leo and Guang Hong were unconsciously skating close to each other to their fan's delight. They'd gone public with their relationship after 4CC, when Leo had been unable to restrain himself from posting a very sweet, very _coupley_ congratulations photograph to Instagram. Seung-gil had 'liked' it and his fans had gone nuts about his support of the pair. Exhausted by the whole thing, he'd deleted the app from his phone (again), only to reinstall it two hours later (again) when the dislocation from his competitors started to nag at him.

The final obstacle to his place on the podium went by, throwing a blazing smile to the audience as he launched into a double toeloop; Phichit Chulanont. The buzz was that he would be adding another quad to his roster in the next season; if that was true, he'd be one step closer to competing with the Russians and Yuuri Katsuki... the Japanese wizzed past with a fixed, grim expression that Seung-gil knew was tightly controlled anxiety, focused on his warm-up to the exclusion of everything else.

Shaking his head irritably, Seung-gil forced his mind back on himself. He recognised the split of his attention for what it was; stress at the pressure of the biggest competition he'd ever taken part in. Worlds had loomed all season, and now he was here he felt as if he would explode. His coach was focused on the Olympics, but that was _two years_ away. For now, the 2016 World Championships was Seung-gil's only concern. He knew his chances of seeing the podium were almost none, barring personal disaster on behalf of one of the other skaters, but he wanted to at least make the top ten. He knew he was good enough to do that much.

Currently, the standings were as follows; Yuri Plisetsky in 1st place, Victor Nikiforov in 2nd, Yuuri Katsuki in 3rd. JJ was 4th, Phichit was clinging on in 5th, and Otabek Altin was in 6th and obviously unhappy about it. Seung-gil was 7th, Guang-Hong 8th, Leo 9th and Emil Nekola 10th. Outside of the top ten were a number of international threats, including Michele Crispino and, stunningly, Christophe Giacometti. The Swiss had caught a bad landing in his short program and the impact on his remaining jumps had been painful to watch, his quads wobbling and his triple axel a disaster that pitched him onto the ice. He'd managed his free skate through sheer willpower, panting in pain as he came off the ice. If anyone screwed up their final skate he might sneak into the top ten, but otherwise he was in trouble.

Warm-up over, the skaters left the ice as Emil took his starting position. As he passed the Thai, Seung-gil felt a gentle tug on his shirtsleeve and glanced up into beautiful, deep brown eyes, a wave of disorientation sweeping him as Phichit silently requested his attention. Shaking him off, Seung-gil's face slid into a frown and he ducked into the corridor, seeking safety with his coach. The supportive smile Phichit had offered him died on the Thai's lips, replaced by a sad, regretful sigh as he ran away, and Seung-gil mentally kicked himself. Sipping water as he waited for his turn to skate, he banned his mind from wandering into memories of 4CC and the time they'd spent together after the gala. He couldn't afford any more distractions.


	2. Chapter 2

Post Worlds final, the hotel corridors filled with the sound of laughter and music, and Seung-gil sat on his bed alone, grinding his teeth in frustration. Phichit had made several attempts to speak with him at the banquet, realising quickly that the buffet was Seung-gil's weak point and staking it out. The Korean had finally given up trying to get something to eat and fled for his room as soon as possible, his manager wearily nodding permission for him to leave after the speeches. He'd ordered room service once he was free of the suit and tie, and waited with a rumbling stomach for his meal to arrive.

Leaping up at the knock on the door, Seung-gil wrenched it open and stared in confusion at Phichit, who had the grace to look sheepish. Beside him, the room service waiter seemed to be trying to disappear into the wall, and the smell from his trolley made Seung-gil beckon the man into the room automatically.

“I figured you'd be hungry since you dodged the buffet all night” Phichit watched as the trolley was unloaded onto the table, leaning against the door frame. Not quite a room invasion, but shutting the door on him would be tricky and might lead to injury. Seung-gil curled his lip as the waiter left without even requesting a tip, clearly spooked by the tense atmosphere. Turning his back on the Thai, he investigated his dinner, aware that his appetite had disappeared entirely.

“I wanted to apologise to you” Phichit's voice was soft, his posture sad and defensive. Seeing him so subdued made Seung-gil's heart hurt, but he forced a grim expression onto his face and folded his arms over his narrow chest.

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Of course I do! I...” lowering his voice, he glanced around to make sure they were alone. “I _kissed_ you... and then I avoided you for months. I should have messaged you to say I was sorry... or something. I...”

“Why did you kiss me?” The question had been bothering Seung-gil for a while, his memories of the evening failing to reveal any clues as to Phichit's motivation. “I mean, apart from the fact you were drunk.”

“Tipsy” Phichit corrected, blushing. “I... I thought you wanted to. I misread everything... as soon as I did it I knew I'd fucked up...”

Just as he'd suspected. “That's what you get for being drunk and kissing random people... not every frog turns into a prince, you know.”

“Wh-what?” Phichit stared at him as if his English translation skills had abandoned him, head tilted to the side. “Frogs? I don't...”

“Forget it” Seung-gil shrugged and sat on his bed. “I'm hungry” he added, “will you be much longer?”

“Seung-gil, I ran away because you rejected me” Phichit put his hands on his hips, lower lip jutting out in an adorable pout. “Not because I decided I didn't like you after all.”

Seung-gil had rejected _him_... Seung-gil frowned, playing the night back in his mind again. “I don't understand” he admitted.

“When I kissed you” Phichit spoke carefully, “you froze up like you hated being touched. I realised I was freaking you out and I panicked...”

“I didn't know what to do” Seung-gil wrapped his arms around himself, a flush high on his cheeks. “I've never kissed anyone before...”

“What?!”

Hunching into himself, he flinched as Phichit sat next to him on the bed, fighting the urge to leap away. “It was my f-first kiss... I was o-overwhelmed...”

“Seung-gil are you _serious_? You're twenty one years old and _gorgeous_ , how was that your first kiss?!” Phichit sounded scandalised, and the Korean grimaced. “I can't believe I was your first kiss... oh my god, I can't believe your first kiss was so _bad_!” Sounding even more horrified, the Thai jumped up and paced for a moment before coming to a conclusion. “I want a do-over!”

“A... a what?”

“A do-over! I want to kiss you again, and get it right this time!” Phichit clapped his hands together, all trace of the previous nervous mood gone. Seung-gil's shocked silence failed to deter him and he rested his hands on the other man's shoulders and looked down at him. “May I kiss you, Seung-gil?”

Seung-gil abruptly decided he was dreaming. He' d fallen asleep after eating, and this was a dream... it wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamed about kissing Phichit, even before 4CC. Straightening up, he nodded. “If you want to” he murmured, and suddenly his lap was full of Thai skater. Phichit's fingers snaked into his hair as they looked at each other, and Seung-gil realised he'd forgotten how to breathe.

“I'll make it good this time” Phichit murmured, “maybe you'll decide you like me afterwards.”

“I like you now” Seung-gil admitted, starting to enjoy the flow of the dream. Phichit's smile was too bright, and he closed his eyes against it, sensing the movement of the other man on his thighs as their lips brushed together. Heat flooded him at the touch and he sighed, smiling as Phichit chased the exhalation. After a few moments of light, chaste kisses, Seung-gil's arms laced around the Thai's waist, lips parting as Phichit's tongue demanded entry. Losing himself in the sensations and the delicious taste of his mouth, Seung-gil sank gracefully onto his back when Phichit pushed, intensity rising until they reluctantly pulled away, gasping for breath. Staring up at the smaller man, something clicked in Seung-gil's mind.

“This... this isn't a dream” he muttered, and Phichit giggled helplessly, shaking his head.

“ _That_ was a much better first kiss” the Thai declared, wriggling so he was sitting more comfortably on Seung-gil's hips, the tension returning to Seung-gil's body as the Korean's nerves began to build up again. Before Seung-gil could move, Phichit leaned back down and stole another kiss, capturing the plumpness of the Korean's lower lip between his teeth for a moment. The resulting whine of pleasure made the Thai smirk, and he switched to full attack, running his tongue over the delicate edge of Seung-gil's jaw and onto his throat. “ _Much_ better.”

Seung-gil gasped, head spinning at the touches. Phichit's confidence washed over him; trying to stop himself from being swept away, Seung-gil tightened his grip on the Thai's waist, fingers digging into his shirt.

“P-Phichit...”

“Too much?” Leaning back, Phichit ran his fingers over Seung-gil's wrists and watched him carefully, huge grey eyes assessing the emotions he knew he was unable to keep from his face. “So do you like kissing me, Seung-gil?”

“Y-yes...” even as Phichit went to lean down, Seung-gil pulled away from him and wriggled out from underneath him. “I mean... no. No! You... you need to go...”

Confusion battled with hurt, and Phichit frowned at him. “You mean you _are_ rejecting me...”

“No! I just...” cradling his head in his hands, Seung-gil wondered if it was possible to die from humiliation. “I have an early flight tomorrow... I'm starving... and this is... it's too much...”

Fingers slipped under his chin and tilted Seung-gil's head back so Phichit could place a sweet kiss on the centre of his forehead. “It's alright, beautiful... I understand. I promise I'll message you this time... OK?” Smiling at Seung-gil's stunned nod, Phichit let himself out of the room, giving one last wave as he slipped away towards the party still filling the halls. Seung-gil watched him go and then looked down at himself, noticing the tremble in his limbs and the heat still rushing through his face.

“What the _fuck_...”


	3. Chapter 3

**[Chuchu] 12.15** _Morning beautiful. How was your flight home?_

The message sat in his inbox, making Seung-gil startle every time he saw the notification. He'd read it, aware that Phichit would be waiting for a response, but his hands shook too badly each time he'd tried to reply.

Options ran through his head as he went through the motions of returning home. Airport, security, small fan ambush at the Arrivals gate, autographs, photos, eventual escape to a taxi. Then home, dump bags, pick up Siku from the dog sitter and endure ten minutes of hyperactive husky greetings before taking her to their usual dog park and letting her run off steam. By the time he returned home again he was tired, hungry and covered in shed fur and slobber. The phone was tossed onto the lounge table as he fed the dog and threw himself into the shower. He refused to look at it again until he'd eaten.

His mother had done her usual trick of breaking into his flat and stocking his fridge before he returned home, and as always he was reluctantly grateful. Poking the remains of his reheated beef kimchi jjigae, Seung-gil eyed the notifications piling up on his phone. With a groan he returned the leftovers to the fridge and Siku recognised the absence of food as implicit permission to reclaim her side of the couch. Eventually, curled up under a blanket of husky, he felt able to reply.

_**[Dont@ Me] 19.36** _ _Fine. Long. Home now, training starts again tomorrow._

_**[Dont@ Me] 19.36** _ _You?_

Clearing out his social media updates and emails grabbed his attention, so he was still looking at his phone when the rapid reply came back. The response was a selfie and a link, and he smiled despite himself. The selfie included guest stars of three tiny hamsters perched on various parts of the Thai skater, and the link was to the weather in Bangkok that day.

**[Chuchu] 19.38** _Hot. HOT._

_**[Dont@ Me] 19.39** _ _Better than being too cold?_

A second selfie followed, and Seung-gil gulped nervously. An expanse of bare, brown skin, muscles tensed and rippled from the position Phichit was holding. A single ice cube was melting its way down his chest, the line of moisture cut off just above his belt by the picture.

_**[Dont@ Me] 19.42** _ _Don't drown the hamsters._

**[Chuchu] 19.42** _Haha._

Wondering if he should be reciprocating with a selfie, Seung-gil eyed his fluffy blanket. Switching the camera to front facing mode he poked Siku until she raised her head to glare at him and then ducked down next to her face. “Smile” he told her, and she retaliated with a long lick just as he took the picture, then abandoned him to collapse onto the floor with a huff. Deciding that was the best he was likely to get from her, he sent the selfie of him wincing and trying to dodge away from the foul dog breath.

**[Chuchu] 19.47** _OH MY GOD THAT'S SO CUTE._

How was it possible for Phichit to be loud even over text?

**[Chuchu] 19.47** _I'm jealous, you're getting kisses from someone else._

Well. How was he supposed to react to that?

_**[Dont@ Me] 19.49** _ _She was here first. Perhaps I cheated on her with you?_

A risky move, and one that sent Seung-gil into a panic. Humour wasn't his strongest skill, he was well aware. Throwing the phone onto the opposite couch, he fled to the kitchen to start clearing up, wincing when he heard the soft chime of his messaging app. Enough was enough, he'd deal with the reply in the morning.

* * *

**[Chuchu] 15.45** _Did you confirm the photoshoot in the end?_

Seung-gil pulled a face at the message, the chill of the rink only just combating the blush it brought to his face.

_**[Dont@ Me] 15.45** _ _Yes._

**[Chuchu] 15.46** _You don't want to do it, do you?_

No, no he did not. The prospect of a fashion magazine photo-shoot with four of the other top Asian figure skaters made him sick to his stomach. Posing in ridiculous clothes while surrounded by the prettiest men in the sport... not ideal. Unfortunately, his PR manager disagreed.

**[Chuchu] 15.47** _Yuuri's just as worried... they wouldn't let Victor come with him, something about team obligations back home. I'm meeting him Narita International on the 3_ _rd_ _and we're staying at the same hotel. You should join us!_

That gave him a pause. Yuuri Katsuki was usually pretty highly strung when his fiancé wasn't around. Perhaps Seung-gil wouldn't be the most awkward one in the group after all.

_**[Dont@ Me] 15.48** _ _Which hotel?_

* * *

Phichit was waiting for Seung-gil in the hotel lobby, thousand watt smile already in place. Seung-gil's nervous wave was aborted as he saw the other two skaters chatting next to the Thai, and the sigh from Phichit was audible. Grabbing the taller man by the arm, Phichit piloted him to the check in desk away from Yuuri and Guang-Hong.

“I tried to get them to meet us later, but they're too excited. Bear with it for a bit, please?”

Nodding, Seung-gil went though the familiar motions of checking in, ignoring the conversation as they were led to their rooms. He managed a polite nod to Yuuri and Guang-Hong before shutting his door in their faces, and threw himself down on his bed. Once again, he wondered what had possessed him to agree to this co-habitation.

The answer to that question knocked on his door a short while later, and he pulled it open a crack to make sure Phichit was alone. The Thai gave him a gentle smile, not moving to come in until Seung-gil gestured. To his surprise, once inside the room Phichit sat calmly on his bed and avoided eye contact. It was both a relief and a worry, and he sat beside him nervously.

“You're quiet today?”

“I thought maybe I overwhelmed you the last few times... I can be full on, I know that. I'm sorry.”

Seung-gil considered it, idly playing with the fabric of his sleeve. “A little” he admitted, and Phichit smiled.

“I missed you” the smaller man slid his hand across the bed, just shy of touching Seung-gil's leg, waiting for the Korean to initiate contact. Heart pounding in his throat, Seung-gil let their fingers touch, fighting to suppress the shiver of anticipation from the light gesture.

“You talk to me every day.”

“I missed seeing you...”

“I send you pictures all the time.”

Phichit smirked, slipping into a teasing tone. “I missed touching you” he murmured, stroking his fingers across the other man's hand.

“You've only done it a few times, how can you miss it already?” Seung-gil's voice shook at the sudden descent into unknown flirting territory.

“I guess I'm hooked on you” Phichit leaned closer, resting his head on Seung-gil's shoulder as the Korean let their fingers intertwine.

“You baffle me” Seung-gil sighed, trying not to loose himself in the coconut scent of Phichit's hair. “Why are you so... so...”

“So interested in you?” Seung-gil nodded, and Phichit sighed. “Yuuri's a genius” he said, mystifying the Korean for a moment. “I've been talking to him about you... trying to figure you out. Figure out what I've been doing wrong...”

“He knows we... we...” unable to finish the sentence, Seung-gil settled for blushing furiously.

“It's fine” Phichit assured him, “he won't say anything. Guang-Hong doesn't know” he added, “I only spoke to Yuuri because you two are so similar...”

“We're nothing alike” Seung-gil protested, dislodging Phichit from his shoulder as he shook his head.

“You are when it comes to romance” Phichit disagreed, “Yuuri told me when he got together with Victor he was almost constantly overwhelmed, confused by the whole thing... and he said even now, he can't understand what Victor sees in him. I wondered if you might be feeling the same way... your texts are always so guarded, like you're waiting for me to get bored and go away...” Shrugging under the assessment, Seung-gil rose and retreated to a safe distance, and Phichit nodded. “Yes, just like that...”

“I...”

“It's OK” Phichit smiled, holding his hand out to the embarrassed skater. “Come sit down... I won't jump on you this time. I promise.” Wrapping his arms defensively over his chest, Seung-gil leaned on the wall and set his face in a cold, familiar sneer. “Seung-gil...”

“I don't understand what you want from me. You... you kiss me, and you message me shirtless selfies... you tell me you miss me... and I don't know _why_ , what your angle is... _what are you trying to do?_ ”

Shaking his head, Phichit leaned back on his wrists and gazed at the Korean. “I'm _trying_ to flirt with you... and I'm working up to asking you to be my boyfriend” he said, bluntly. Seung-gil's jaw dropped.

“ _What?”_

“I can't be much clearer.”

“ _Why??_ ”

“For the love of... because I _like_ you, Seung-gil!”

“ _Why_ ” Seung-gil hunched in on himself even further, shaking his head. “There's _nothing_ here for you to like... I'm... you're... I'm a miserable excuse for a figure skater, failing at the prime of his career, with no social skills and zero personality. _Why the fuck would you want anything to do with me?!”_


	4. Chapter 4

The days after Seung-gil's outburst were challenging. Phichit had fled the room, completely overwhelmed by the outpouring of anger and self loathing from the Korean and Seung-gil had cried himself to sleep, waking up puffy faced and exhausted in the early hours of the morning. They'd sat in silence in the cab to the studio, Yuuri and Guang-Hong shifting in the awkward tension and throwing themselves gratefully out of the car. Phichit had tried to speak with Seung-gil, but his gaze had been fleeting and his voice shook, and the Korean bolted rather than deal with it.

Photoshoots were soothing for Seung-gil – the routine was familiar, all activities taken firmly out of his hands. All he had to do was move as and when he was told to; go to makeup, go to hair, go to dressing, go to location, pose, change pose, change pose and repeat until done. Makeup fussed over his appearance, commenting on the stressed state of his skin from crying the night before, and he found himself drifting off into a meditative state while they moisturised and soothed and plucked. Awareness only really came back when he arrived at the location for the group shots and found himself tucked next to Phichit in a booth at one of Tokyo's most well loved izakaya.

“Seung-gil...a-after this, we need to talk.”

“Can you two get a bit closer? That's perfect... Phichit, maybe lean back a little... yes, great. Now Yuuri, put your arm along the back of the booth... yep, perfect. OK, and hold...”

Forcing himself to stay still, Seung-gil made a noise of agreement. Being unable to speak had unexpected advantages.

“Great, now next, Let's get Seung-gil turning to the left... just your head... and raise your hand a little... perfect. Hold...”

The proximity to the Thai was doing horrible things to Seung-gil's composure. He could feel the flush trying to rise, confirmed by the makeup team darting in and fussing with his face before the next shot. Instructions to _try to relax_ from the photographer fell on deaf ears... Phichit was practically in his lap and his mind was locked on memories of the last time that happened...

“OK let's take a break. Seung-gil, can you step over to makeup for me.”

Cursing himself, the Korean slunk back to the makeup area for corrections, aware of the stares of the other skaters. Phichit looked worried, Yuuri seemed amused, and Guang-Hong looked baffled. While he was unavailable, the photographer grabbed a few of the pair shots he wanted, then they were all shoved back into wardrobe and hair for the next lot.

Sipping water and trying to calm himself down, Seung-gil mulled over Phichit's whisper. Talking was very much not what he wanted to do, but after the last few months, he knew better than to try to dodge. Phichit was relentless.

-

“You worried me, Seung-gil.”

Lowering his eyes, Seung-gil nodded guiltily. “I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said anything.”

“Not this again!” Phichit sounded infuriated, although he was trying to keep his tone soft. “I'm _glad_ you said what you were thinking... but Seung-gil, do you _really_ think like that about yourself?”

“I don't _think_ it... I know it's the truth,” Seung-gil wrapped his arms over his chest, the posture achingly familiar and defensive. Phichit frowned.

“How do you skate, feeling like this? How can you bear it... to be on the ice, to _try,_ when you think you won't succeed?”

“I...” Seung-gil looked blank. “What else is there? I'm a figure skater... that's all I know how to do...”

Crossing the room, Phichit knelt in front of the Korean, resting his hands either side of Seung-gil's thighs on the bed. “You're so wrong... about all of it” he protested, ignoring the way the taller man's expression closed down. “You _are_. You can't see it... you can't see what I see... but that doesn't mean I'm wrong! You don't get to tell me what to think, or feel!”

Staring down at him, Seung-gil's stomach flipped over. The anger in the Thai's voice cut through his misery, and he tilted his head to one side as he processed his words. “Is that... is that what I've been doing?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Phichit sighed, leaning forward into Seung-gil's space. “Yes, it is. You've been so determined to push me away, you're not _listening_ when I tell you I _want_ to be here! It's driving me nuts... because I know you like me. If you just didn't like me, I'd understand...”

“I thought it was best for you... best that you see the _real_ me...”

“I _do_ see the real you... and _you_ don't get to decide what's best for me,” Phichit moved his hands to Seung-gil's waist, pressing forward when the Korean automatically parted his thighs to let him get closer. Snuggling into his embrace, Phichit touched their noses together. “I'm not blind. You're a mess, Seung-gil... but that doesn't make you unlovable. It doesn't put me off...”

“It should... why wouldn't it?!”

Phichit shrugged. “I'm a mess, too. We all are, one way or another... but it's not the _only_ thing we are. I like you... watching you skate takes my breath away... the first time you smiled at me, I thought I might die, you were so cute. I was lost, even before I kissed you... now I know what that feels like, I can't get enough of it!” Pressing his lips against Seung-gil's cheek, he smiled as the other man's arms encircled his waist hesitantly. “I want to keep kissing you, Seung-gil. Is that what you want, too?”

“I... I don't know,” Seung-gil's voice shook, and Phichit leaned back, his brow furrowing at the implied rejection. Closing his eyes, Seung-gil tried to wrap words around the turmoil in his mind. “Being with you... being around you... it's like a drama. You're so bright, so intense... when I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything, be _anything_... but when you're gone, the real world creeps back in... how ridiculous I am for wanting that, for thinking it might be possible... that you might actually like me...”

Drawing a slow, shaky breath, Phichit stood up. “Your doubts are crushing you... and me,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What will it take for you to believe in me?”

“I don't know,” Seung-gil repeated, and Phichit clicked his tongue.

“I'm not going to harass you, or try to force a confession out of you,” his voice trembled, and Seung-gil's heart ached at the sheen of tears in his eyes. “Until you know what you want, there's nothing I can do or say. I'll see you at the Grand Prix... let me know what you want to do. If you still don't know by then... well, that's an answer, in itself.”

“Phichit...”

“I'll stay if you want,” the Thai raised an eyebrow, and Seung-gil shivered. He _did_ want, very much; warmth lingered on his skin from the chaste kiss, and he could still feel the ghost touch of Phichit's hands on his waist. It dawned on him that no-one had ever touched him in such a way... like he was precious, desirable... he wondered how he'd feel if Phichit never touched him again, and his mouth tasted like ashes.

“Tomorrow... early flight... you should go...” even as the words left Seung-gil's mouth he wanted to scream at himself, Phichit leaving without a backwards glance. The set of the Thai's shoulders spoke of suppressed emotions, and Seung-gil clenched his fists into the sheets. Collapsing into a ball on the bed, he wrapped his arms around himself and choked back a sob, burying his face in his hands.

* * *

Stumbling along the corridor, blinded by tears, Phichit fetched up against Yuuri's door and tapped, falling into his friend's arms as the smaller man let him in, a yukata wrapped around him over his travelling pyjamas.

“Oh Phichit... what happened?!”

Shaking his head, Phichit let Yuuri pull him under the duvet with him, resting his head on his friend's chest and letting his grief out as quietly as he could. Holding onto him, Yuuri closed his eyes and murmured soothing nonsense until Phichit's weeping stopped, leaving the Thai wrung out and tired.

“What am I doing, Yuuri?”

“Being stubborn,” Yuuri admitted, stroking Phichit's hair out of his eyes. “Victor must have felt this way for months,” he added, thoughtfully. “I was so blind, so determined that I was beneath his notice... I don't know why he kept going, kept hoping... perhaps it was because he knew how I felt about him, even if I couldn't say it?”

“Seung-gil... he said he didn't know if he wanted me... that he couldn't believe _I_ wanted _him_...”

“That sounds familiar,” Yuuri smiled sadly. “I think if you'd asked me before the Grand Prix qualifiers, I would have said something very similar... if Victor had given up on us, I never would have chased him. I would have been convinced he'd made the right choice to leave me behind... convinced I wasn't worthy of his attention, didn't deserve his feelings...”

“Do you think he had nights like this?” Phichit closed his eyes, the emotional exhaustion taking its toll. “Do you think he cried over you?”

“Hmm... maybe,” Yuuri sounded sad at the thought. “You'd have to ask him.”

“I'm not going to ask _Victor Nikiforov_ for dating advice...”

“He wouldn't mind...”

Shrugging, Phichit burrowed further under the covers. “Not happening,” he declared with a pout, and Yuuri chuckled.

“Get some sleep,” he suggested, wriggling so his back was to his friend and fighting a yawn. “I'll help you pack up your room tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Phichit murmured, the warmth already carrying him off to sleep. “He's worth it,” he said after a few moments, and Yuuri nodded.

“Then don't give up on him.”


	5. Chapter 5

NHK was brutal, with Seung-gil's failure to podium and Phichit's silver confirming that neither of them would be competing in the final. Seung-gil had dealt with it by disappearing from the after-party as soon as politeness allowed, whereas Phichit celebrated Yuuri's gold until the early hours of the morning, and was more than a little drunk when he staggered to the hotel's rooftop bar for some air.

Seung-gil turned at his approach and stared at him, taking in his unfocused eyes and the wobble in his step. Even inebriated, Phichit could see his wariness and the “stay away” vibes he was projecting, so the Thai simply folded himself up on one of the loungers to watch the sun rise. His silence unnerved Seung-gil enough that he surprised both of them by initiating interaction.

“You're avoiding me?”

“No... you just don't look like you want my company. I'm not a stalker, Seung-gil.” The tone was unexpectedly harsh, and Seung-gil frowned.

“You're angry with me.”

“Just drunk and sad,” Phichit pushed his empty glass away, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair. “I wanted to watch the sun come up... I always feel better once I see its face.”

“I prefer the moon,” Seung-gil crossed to the loungers and sat opposite Phichit, watching the soft, pre-dawn light play over his skin. “It's always seemed calming to me... the sun is too loud.”

“Perhaps that's so,” Phichit gave Seung-gil a soft smile, tilting his head to one side. “Is that why you and I don't work? I'm the sun, and you're the moon?”

“No,” Seung-gil shook his head, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “It's because I'm stupid... and scared.”

“What are you scared of?” Phichit raised an eyebrow as Seung-gil retreated even further, watching the taller man curiously. His body language was that same mixture of longing and avoidance that had confused Phichit so much in Tokyo, and even before that, at worlds. Even as he pulled away, his fingers twitched in the direction of Phichit's hand and his jaw tensed, battling the fact that he wanted to move closer. It was baffling, and Phichit wasn't sure he could deal with it while he was drunk.

“Everything about... about this.”

The answer was blunt, and Phichit closed his eyes against the sting of more tears. “I'm sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick. “I never meant to frighten you...”

“I'm not frightened _of_ _you_... it's... it's what you represent.” Seung-gil chewed his lip as he watched Phichit's face crumple, guilt gnawing at his heart. “I made you cry last time, too,” he said remorsefully, and Phichit turned his head away.

“That's my problem,” he murmured. “So what do I represent, that's so terrifying?”

“Happiness.”

“You're _scared_ of being happy?”

“Yes.”

“That's...” shaking his head, Phichit struggled with the right words. “That's crazy,” he blurted, and Seung-gil winced.

“I know...”

Pushing himself upright, Phichit swung his legs round until he was sitting facing Seung-gil, narrowing his eyes as he thought about it. “You're _not_ scared of being happy,” he declared, “you're scared of being happy, and then _losing_ that happiness. You think if we try, and fail, it would be much worse than if we'd never tried at all? You're right,” Phichit growled, a wave of anger flooding him. “You _are_ stupid.” Seung-gil's eyes darted to his face, then slipped away at the sight of his fury. “That's the most stupid reason to break someone's heart I've ever heard.”

“What...?”

“You heard me,” Phichit curled his lip, watching the blood drain from Seung-gil's face. “You made me cry last time we were in Japan, and you've done it again now. You show me you like me... and it gives me hope... but then you say things like this, and it breaks my heart again...”

“Phichit...”

“I told you, you had until the Grand Prix to make up your mind. I'll see you at the final, and you can let me know.”

“The final? I'm not going to the final. Neither of us are.”

“Speak for yourself,” Phichit looked out over the city as the sun appeared from below the horizon. “I'm not missing the chance to see my best friend take gold from under his fiancé's nose. I'll be going as a spectator.”

“How can you stand it? To know you failed...”

Turning to look back at the Korean, Phichit shook his head. “I'm not _afraid_ of failure. I don't avoid things I want, just because there's a chance it might hurt.” Seung-gil's shocked expression made him sigh. “If I did, how could I ever put on a pair of skates?”

* * *

The last few months had been challenging, with Victor Nikiforov's return to skating dominating the headlines as well as the score boards. The two Russians tore lumps off the competition from all sides, with Yuri Plisetsky snatching the gold away from Victor in Skate Canda, and smashing JJ Leroy down to silver in Rostelecom and Victor taking first place in France. Yuuri Katsuki walked away with the gold in both Skate America and NHK. The spread of assignments made pickings for the other international skaters were slim even before they got on the ice, and neither Seung-gil's American bronze or Phichit's Japanese silver were enough to get them into the top six.

Failing to qualify for the Final had been a blow to both of them, and forced a breach in the wall of silence built since the disastrous photo-shoot in Tokyo. Originally, Seung-gil refused to even consider coming to Barcelona to watch the Final, but his parents had bought his plane ticket for him, making it cost neutral for the team, and his coach approved, hoping the atmosphere would motivate him for the rest of the season. Seung-gil's protests had been overruled by everyone and he'd practically been ordered onto the plane at Incheon.

When he was on the ice, Seung-gil rarely noticed the sound of the crowd, too focused to listen to the cheering and clapping over his music and pulse. Waiting for his turn to skate was the same, absorbed in his preparations and ignoring everything else. Attending the Grand Prix Final as a spectator was very different. The noise and mass of people made him panicky and nervous, hunching in on himself under his puffy jacket and thick scarf. Peeking over the top, he saw a familiar flash of red and gold and made his way up through the stands to the seats Phichit had insisted on reserving for them.

Sitting beside the Thai, Seung-gil marvelled at Phichit's ability to stand out while being completely swamped in warm fabrics and thick layers, cheerful despite everything and bubbling with excitement. The smaller man grinned at him, the tip of his nose pink from the cold of the rink. Seung-gil fought back the sudden desire to kiss it, blinking down at the ice instead as Phichit chattered to him as doubt coiled and rolled in his gut.

As the music shifted and the lights dimmed for the final skaters, a faint touch to Seung-gil's arm made him glance sideways. Phichit pressed closer to him, murmuring in his ear as he rested his gloved hand on Seung-gil's wrist. A heat entirely unrelated to his clothing spread through the Korean and he swallowed nervously. Cursing himself for his cowardice, he twisted his arm away from Phichit and curled up on his seat, trying to hide in his hood.

Sighing, Phichit backed off, giving him space and looking down at the ice. He longed to be down there with the others, and he knew Seung-gil felt the same. It frustrated him that Seung-gil refused the offer of comfort when he understood just how badly the Korean longed for it. He reminded himself once again that the champion of impulsiveness, Victor Nikiforov, waited patiently for nearly a year before Yuuri opened up to him. Phichit was just as committed, and just as willing to wait... he just hoped Seung-gil could see that.

The moment Phichit moved away with a sad little noise, something snapped inside Seung-gil. The months of self doubt and fear were replaced with anger at himself, fury at his constant rejection of the very thing he wanted. Growling softly, he found himself looking at the ice and remembering the same fears and doubt choking him during his qualifiers. His eyes landed on Yuuri Katsuki, gliding silently into his starting position. The Japanese seemed calm, his body angled not towards the judges, but towards the side of the rink where a splash of silver waited for him. The serenity in his motions filled Seung-gil with a deep longing, and as he finished, his end pose once again ignored the judges, focused instead on his beaming fiancé.

Katsuki's score put him in a comfortable first place, and Victor clung to him with pure joy despite being knocked into third. Seung-gil's eyes burned as he watched them, envious tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. It was so easy for them, so effortless... and so impossible for him.

“Hard to believe Yuuri spent nearly eight months being convinced Victor just wanted to be his coach,” Phichit's voice was close to his ear, but not invading his space. Seung-gil tilted his head curiously, finding the Thai watching the couple fondly. “They're so happy now, but it took time and a lot of patience.”

“Are you reading my mind?” Seung-gil demanded, and Phichit raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself,” he blushed. The deep colour in his cheeks made Seung-gil's heart race, stunned into silence by how pretty Phichit looked. The Thai rose from his seat and gestured to the exit, indicating they should make their way out, and Seung-gil shook himself.

“What made Katsuki realise it was real?” Seung-gil's voice was gruff, and he looked shocked, unaware he was planning to speak. Phichit laughed out loud, eyes distant with memory.

“He made Victor cry,” he said, shaking his head. “Victor had actually told everyone they were engaged by then, but even so... Yuuri said it was at that moment he realised Victor loved him. Of course he felt terrible for upsetting him so much, but...” Phichit's voice cut off as Seung-gil's fingers curled into his own, and he stared down at their joined hands in astonishment. “What...”

“I've made you cry too many times. I don't want to do that any more.”

“Seung-gil...”

“I've envied Katsuki for a long time,” the Korean stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Phichit's eyes. “I wanted what he has... success, passion, _love..._ watching him today, I realised the only thing stopping me from having those things is _me_...” he took a shuddering breath, forcing himself to meet Phichit's eyes. “Success is about confidence as much as skill... passion is something I've always fought _against_ , not embraced... and... and love has been waiting for me for over a year. It's time I stopped getting in my own way.”

Seung-gil felt physically sick with terror as he confessed, and his fingers tightened in a silent plea for support. Phichit immediately squeezed back, tucking himself into Seung-gil's side as they made their way into the press of spectators leaving the rink. The push of people around them, the noise and scent of the crowd, it all faded to nothing beside the pressure on Seung-gil's fingers and the warmth against him. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Seung-gil knew he wanted to hold Phichit's hand forever.

**Author's Note:**

> [Links](https://linktr.ee/artofsilvandar) to my online accounts  
> I love talking to people, so please follow me on Twitter or Tumblr!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Some of my other fics you might enjoy:  
> ["Bratva on Ice"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1173482) my Otayuri Mafia AU  
> Canon based Kink!Otayuri fans[ click here!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1144475)  
> Vampire/Nephilim OtaYuri AU[ A Kiss To Remember](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1197235) Winner of NaNoWriMo 2018  
> Multi fandom [drabbles and one-shots](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1298186)  
> 


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